Clawing My Way to the Top
by Elladora D. Jobberknoll
Summary: Rita Skeeter, attractive blonde, twenty-three, and aspiring Daily Prophet reporter, is certain journalism is for her. But with her measly job and one last chance to make it big, Rita begins to consider a few "alternative" methods to getting the scoop.
1. The Challenge

**Disclaimer**- I own none of these wonderful characters though I _would_ really like to own Remus… please J.K?

**Authoress's Note**- As you may or may not have noticed from my Authoress's page, I've recently been rereading Goblet of Fire for the umpteenth time and it hit me, wouldn't it be fun to write a fic about Rita Skeeter? I've been searching fanfiction and there are barely any to speak of! I was planning on attempting this after Summer with the Arrogant Prat is finished, but the idea just has been itching at me every since it hit me and at school today, a wave of plot ideas hit me and I just had to give in and write some! I hope you all like it as much as you like all my other fanfiction! –crosses fingers- **E.D.J.**

* * *

"Skeeter!" barked a loud voice and a blonde bespectacled girl quickly glanced up from her shabby desk, farthest away from the window. "In my office! Now!" 

Clearly, Rita's boss was in no mood for complete sentences.

"Yes, Mr. Harding?" she asked wearily, standing uncertainly in the doorway of her boss's office. Charles Harding, Editor-in-Chief of the _Daily Prophet_, was not a man you wanted to cross. One wrong move and you were fired on the spot. Well, in Rita's case, she had to have at least eight or nine wrong moves tallied up, but Mr. Harding still kept her around. Rita was too afraid to ask why. Mr. Harding wasn't too keen on asking questions either and if you annoyed him or worse, _offended _him, you'd soon find your name and picture plastered across the front page of the _Prophet_ under the title "Suspected Death Eater."

"Skeeter, sit down," growled Mr. Harding and Rita realized she had been daydreaming. She sat quickly, watching as her boss plucked a sheet of parchment out of a large stack and stuck his feet up on the mahogany desk. Rita winced at the sight of his shoe soles, but kept her face blank.

"What is this, Skeeter?" asked Mr. Harding, waving the sheet of parchment under her nose.

Rita glanced at it and felt a sinking feeling. She recognized the handwriting. "I believe that would be my article on the new Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess-Remover, sir."

"Of course it is! Any idiot can see that!" he snapped. "But where's the pizzazz, the spark that's going to keep people reading? This…" He held up the parchment, "is pure rubbish." He tore the parchment in half and then set it alight with his wand.

Rita barely blinked. "What'd you expect? You gave me _cleaning products_ for Merlin's sake," she muttered under her breath.

"You say something, Skeeter?" barked Mr. Harding, his bushy gray eyebrows snapping together.

"No, sir," she stammered, sweeping the ashes of her article into the wastebasket. "I promise I'll do better next time, sir. If you just give me one more chance…"

Mr. Harding sighed and rubbed his forehead. His voice was much softer this time. "Rita, I've given you chances before because I think you've got something. However, time and time again, you've managed to prove me wrong. You need to write something that will intrigue the readers. Thus far, your reports have completely lacked that. I'm sorry, Rita."

Rita sat stoic, hardly believing her ears. "You're going to fire me because I couldn't make _cleaning products _sell?" she asked fiercely, gripping her chairs, knuckles white.

He stared at her, his gaze stony. "No. I'm going to fire you if you mess this next one up. You've got the spark, Rita, I can feel it. You have three weeks to come up with something mind-blowing, write it, and hand it in to me. Choose any topic you like, get a photographer to help you, justs make sure it's good or…" He drew a finger across his throat.

"Thank you, sir," Rita mumbled, standing up.

"Remember what I said, Skeeter!" Mr. Harding bellowed as she strode back to ther grim desk. "I've fired thousands of little wannabes like you and I won't hesitate to do it again!"

Wannabe? Rita bristled. Was he challenging her? Well a challenge it was and she'd meet it or else end up working as a cashier at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor.

No, she thought, gritting her teeth. She woul dnot do that again. Three years were bad enough.

* * *

In case anyone's wondering, this is set twenty years before "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire." Rita's Quick-Quotes Quill mentions she is forty-three in 1994, so ta da! She is twenty-three and it is 1974, in the midst of Voldemort's attacks. Let me know what you think! **E.D.J. **


	2. The Mentor

**Disclaimer**- (sung to the tune of "My Favorite Things" of the Sound of Music)

Retitled "My Favorite Things of Harry Potter That I Still Don't Own"

Harry and Ronnie and Crookshanks the kitten

Remus and Ginny and Ron's maroon mittens

Magical cards that endlessly sing

These are a few of my favorite things!

Giant black spiders and boggarts and veelas

Redheaded twins whose pranks are a steal-a

Evil Dark Lords who kill everything

These are a few of my favorite things!

Ron in his dress robes and Harry's first kiss

Harry's cool scar knows when something's amiss

Dumbledore who can do anything

These are a few of my favorite things!

When the dragon bites

When the Skrewt stings

When I'm feeling sad

I simply remember my favorite things

And then I don't feel... so bad!

**Authoress's Note**- All due credits for the inspiration to make a singing disclaimer go to **The Noble Platypus **(who actually had a singing thank you to reviewers to the tune of "My Favorite Things") , authoress of some of the coolest Lord of the Rings parodies in FanFiction and who wasnice enough to come and read and review _my_ story after I read hers! (Thanks, Platy!) Anyway we have reached... CHAPTER TWO! Not much else to say; the crazy isn't coming for the authoress's note. -sighs- Oh well. **E.D.J.**

**Thanks for the reviews!**

**p0pptartt**- I'm glad you liked the story!

**The Noble Platypus**- Thank you again for reading my fic! I'm glad you find it highly amusing. I'll be sure to check out your Harry Potter fic soon! (I believe I started the first chapter, but then I did something... don't remember! -waves hands vaguely-) Yes I'm glad you loved all my reviews, I love your fics! You deserve them all! Oh and your author's page is high-freaking-larious! I love the quotes! They're insane!

**Harry Lvr**- Why would I be sick of someone who reviews so faithfully? I love lots of reviews! I'm glad you love all my fics! And skip the book, how dare you?! Kidding! I've had finals and studying for finals andreviewing for finals in class all these last few weeks so I haven't had the chance to update or write much of the book anyway! I'm glad you want to read it! When and IF it gets published, I'm going to have to put some sign on it that says THIS IS THE BOOK BY ELLADORA D. JOBBERKNOLL THAT MADE HER NEGLECT HER FANFICTION SO! Hee hee.

* * *

**Chapter 2- The Mentor**

As soon as her watch hit five thirty, the end of her official workday, Rita shot out of the _Daily Prophet_ office building as if she had an angry herd of centaurs on her tail. She quickly apparated to her flat and, with a slight sigh, murmured the charm to unlock the door.

Rita stepped inside and tossed her tattered purse on the kitchen table. With a flick of her wand, the flat illuminated, shining light down on the shabby furniture and general smallness of the flat. Of course Rita didn't have that strange Muggle lighting, 'electkricy' or whatever, not many wizards did and only the rather eccentric ones at that. Frankly, Rita thought the whole concept a bit dicey. A bit of wire surrounded by glass, creating light? She'd stick to nice safe magic any day thank you very much.

She tossed her wand onto the table next to her purse and surveyed her flat, taking in the dingy walls and grimy floor. She'd worked six years for _this_?

Rita was roused out of her thoughts by a loud bang. She jumped, startled to see a large grey owl hovering outside her window. She quickly opened the window, muttering, "Dumb bird."

The owl hooted indignantly as she took the copy of the _Evening Prophet_ from its beak and thrust a few Knuts into the pouch attached to its leg. As soon as the owl had flapped back outside, Rita smoothed the newspaper and glanced at the front page.

"Three More Disappearances Reported: 'You-Know-Who' Suspected" screamed the title.

As Rita read the article, she felt a thrill of adrenaline rush through her veins. This was _real _journalism; this was what Harding wanted. However, how could she, a twenty something nobody, write front-page material and in three weeks for Merlin's sake?

Rita sighed and glanced back at the article again. She noticed the small words 'by Morwenna Carleton' written under the title. Now _this_ was a successful female journalist. If only she could meet Ms. Carleton and figure out how she got that spark Mr. Harding wanted then…

Interesting. A slight smile curled Rita's lips. She would prove Mr. Harding wrong and this woman was the exact person to help her do it.

* * *

The next morning, Rita positively sprang out of bed, eager to get to work for the first time. 

She eyed herself critically in the bathroom mirror. Merlin, she looked like a wreck. Her blouse and skirt were terribly wrinkled. She never had mastered that Ironing Charm. She had a better chance of setting her close on fire than actually getting them to look somewhat presentable.

Her skin was taut and pale from some many years spent indoors at her desk. If she ever did get to be a well-paid journalist, the first thing she'd ask for was an assignment outside in the sun. She practically looked like a vampire for Merlin's sake! Not that there was anything wrong with vampires. A few of them worked on the same floor as Rita at the _Daily Prophet_. They were usually quite nice and charming when they weren't staring at your neck. She could be around one of them if they remembered to keep their fangs to themselves.

Tossing her blonde hair, Rita gave herself a final look in the mirror before deciding to hell with it and apparating to the _Daily Prophet _lobby.

She stepped up to the main desk and spoke to the raven-haired Welcome Witch: "Hello, I'm Rita Skeeter; I work on level six. Would it be possible for you to tell me where Ms. Morwenna Carleton's office is?"

The woman directed her to level two, third hallway on her left. Rita apparated up to the second level of the building and found herself face to face with another desk, this one occupied by a plump, brown-haired receptionist.

Rita cleared her throat and the receptionist asked in a slightly bored tone, "How can I help you, Miss-"

"Skeeter," Rita supplied. "I was wondering if it would be possible for me to speak with Ms. Morwenna Carleton."

The receptionist slowly looked up at her, taking in her wrinkled clothes and pallid skin. "Do you have an appointment with Ms. Carleton? It's common knowledge that she doesn't like to be disturbed during work hours."

"Ah… yes, I do have an appointment!" Rita lied quickly, noticing the sheet of parchment on the receptionist's desk labeled 'Daily Appointments.' "Though I believe my boss scheduled it under her own name." She frantically tried to read the parchment upside down without looking too obvious about it. "I'm sorry, I'm new here, so her name may be a little garbled. I believe its Meara (**A/N- pronounced mee-ra) **Re…Ren…Reno..."

"Oh do you mean Meara Renovo?" asked the receptionist, glancing down at the sheet of parchment.

"Yes that's it!" said Rita, relieved. "Now should I go right in or wait here-"

"Oh but it says here your boss's appointment has been cancelled," said the receptionist, scrutinizing the sheet of parchment.

"Well erm…she was called to a meeting with Mr. Harding, so Ms. Renovo sent me instead," she began, squirming uncomfortably. "I could have sworn she mentioned sending an owl to Ms. Carleton, but sometimes Ms. Renovo gets a little… absentminded."

"Ah," said the receptionist shortly. "Well I suppose you can go in." She motioned to the oak door behind her. "Mind you, keep the meeting short; Ms. Carleton's very busy."

Rita nodded and quietly walked over, opening the door silently. She was blinded by an array of bright sunlight shining into the large oak-paneled office. A slender blonde in her mid-thirties was scribbling away furiously at the highly polished desk.

She continued writing as she asked without glancing up, "Oriana, is that you with my morning tea? Just sent it on the desk. Did you remember…" Morwenna trailed off as she looked up to see not her receptionist, but a bespectacled blonde stranger in her office. "You're not Oriana," she said faintly. "Get out of my office."

"I'm so sorry, Ms. Carleton. I didn't mean to intrude, it's just that I need some advice," said Rita rapidly, wringing in her hands.

"Fine then," said Morwenna, motioning to the chair in front of her desk. "You have five minutes." That was Morwenna Carleton for you. Straight and to the point.

"Alright, well I'm Rita Skeeter and I've worked for two and a half years as one of the struggling 'wannabes' who reports directly to the Editor-in-Chief. I've yet to have anything published, except this tiny bit on some weirdo who was an alternate for the Tutshill Tornadoes and was selling potions made of the team's toenail clippings on the black market. Disgusting if you ask me, but that's beside the point. I-"

"Wait a minute, stop right there," said Morwenna, holding up a hand. "You mean to tell me that you've worked two and a half years for 'Hard-Arse' Harding withoutpublishing anything worthwhile and he's _still_ kept you around?"

Rita nodded.

"Wow, either he thinks you've got some sort of hidden potential or ol' Hardy's gone soft," Morwenna quipped. "Very interesting. Continue."

"All right, I've got one last chance to write something brilliant or else my arse is fired. Harding says I need the spark that keeps people reading. You're writing front-page news on 'You-Know-Who'! Can you help me?" Rita pulled a tiny filing case out of her purse and enlarged it with a wave of her wand. "I have copies of all of my articles right here."

"Ah, let's see," said Morwenna, taking the filing case. She skimmed over every article Rita had ever written in about ten minutes flat. "These are good, these are actually very good. Well maybe the most recent cleaning products one not so much," she said, handing the case back to Rita. "I'm just going to give you one bit of advice, Rita. You have to be less focused on the truth and honesty of your article. You're here to sell newspapers; you're not in the Miss World Witch pageant."

"But isn't that what people are looking for?" asked Rita, confused. "The truth?"

"No!" said Morwenna so loudly that Rita jumped a foot off her seat. "And you know why? Because, more often than not, the truth is boring. Completely and utterly boring. You know what people want? Scandal, dark secrets, hidden skeletons coming out of closets, heartbreak, jealously, betrayal! Did it sound like I mentioned truth or honesty anywhere in there?"

Rita shook her head.

"Exactly, Rita. You let that sink in and come back to me when you think you've got something," Morwenna waved carelessly at the door. "I have to have this article on Albus Dumbledore being appointed to the Wizengamot on Harding's desk by five o'clock."

"Thank you for the advice, Ms. Carleton," said Rita, standing up.

"Call me Morwenna," said the woman, shaking Rita's hand. "And, Rita?"

"Yes?"

"Good luck. Blow us all away."

* * *

So what did you all think of Morwenna? I personally love her, but then again I'm the one who created her so... -whistles innocently- Tell me what you think! **E.D.J.**


	3. A Useful Source of Embarrassment

**Disclaimer- **Erm... can't think of anything particularly witty or sarcastic to say at the moment, so... Well, you all know I don't own anything by now, right? Dear Merlin I hope so.

**Authoress's Note- ** Haven't updated for a bit, have I? (innocent whistle) Well, here's chapter three o' my liddle Rita fic! I'm tired and eager to get off the 'Net right now, so I'm not in the mood to reread this for mistakes. Feel free to point out any blatant mistakes you find. I'll get to them... eventually... ;-) **E.D.J.**

**(1) **Alright, I cannot for the life of me remember where the quote "Just remember: everything depends on this" is from, so to suffice it's not mine, but I'm having a bit of trouble remembering where it's from. **  
**

**The reviews are wonderful! Keep 'em comin'!**

**p0pptartt- **I'm glad you think Morwenna the sort of person Rita Skeeter would look up to!

**Harry Lvr- **It's alright to love and hate Morwenna! Her musings on journalism will have a big impact on Rita and through her, Harry! I could take over for J.K? Wow. You flatter me, really.

**The Noble Platypus**- I'm glad you like Morwenna! Yes, so very blunt! –growls- I'm very upset that the original Mockfest got taken down! I don't know why people feel the need to play 'Fanfiction police' because A)It's not as if the writers are hurting anybody if it's a small sidestep of the bloody GUIDELINES and B)We're not making any money off of this, so what's the point of reporting it? I think some people just get bored and scrounge around looking for people to point fingers at. Bah. I'm glad you think my fics are awesome! Thank you so much!

**Vanillafluffy**- Yes, Rita is a very intriguing character. She's very like my character interviewer Elladora in my Crazy Chats with the Harry Potter Characters fic, and Elladora is basically me with the hyper, crazy, evilness upped a bit and a dash of world dominating power thrown in ;-)

* * *

** Ch. 3-A Useful Source of Embarrassment**

Rita hurried out of Morwenna Carleton's office, quite confused. Truth and honesty were positively null in the world of Daily Prophet journalism? The truth was more often than not completely and utterly boring? Her head spun at the thought.

_You're here to sell newspapers; you're not in the Miss World Witch pageant_. Morwenna's words continued to echo through her mind as she Apparated to her miserable desk on the sixth floor.

Well, it all did make sense—to an extent. _The Daily Prophet_ primary goal was to maintain a steady flow of money, while spreading wizarding news to the populace came second.

Rita wriggled in her chair, suddenly feeling quite dirty. She wondered why it had taken her so long to see what a corrupt world she'd stumbled upon for her chosen line of work. When had the truth taken to the background to be muddled and misinterpreted as the reporter saw fit?

She groaned and buried her head in her arms, crinkling a few papers as she banged her head against her desk.

Wait. Papers? Rita's desk was rickety and dusty, but cluttered and disorganized? No.

She lifted her head and looked down at a small stack of papers topped with a hastily scribbled note in an impatient hand.

_Skeeter—_

_Thought you might find these helpful in your quest to keep your job. Study them carefully; they're what you _should _be writing like. Remember: three weeks—no more, no less. Don't be nervous, just remember: your entire career depends on this. _**(1)**

_C. Harding_

"Thank you for that bit of reassurance, Mr. Harding," Rita murmured sarcastically, crumpling up the note and tossing it in the dustbin next to her desk. It burped loudly.

She glanced at the stack of papers, and her jaw dropped. Here before her was a selection of the biggest front-page articles in the last five years. Most of more recent ones screamed, "You-Know-Who Suspected in Recent Muggle Killings", "You-Know-Who's Mark Found Above the Head of International Cooperation's Home", and "Death Eaters Spotted Outside of Wales."

Rita was suddenly filled with a burst of affection for the old brute of an Editor-in-Chief but kept the feeling contained. Mr. Harding would have her thrown her thrown out of the office on her arse in the blink of an eye if she ran in and hugged him under any circumstances.

Rita quickly pulled out a sheet of parchment and a battered quill and began taking notes.

* * *

Hours later, she stared blankly at her notes in dismay. All of these headline reporters seemed to have one thing in common: they had the ability to get people to divulge almost anything, even some things they may have not want the general wizarding public to know. 

Frankly, Rita didn't think she'd ever have that ability. She hadn't even been able to get her best mate at Hogwarts Deirdra to admit that she'd fancied the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain when they were fourth-years! How in the world would she convince international Quidditch stars to confess that they'd been ridiculed by their fellow students because of their inability to control a broomstick for three whole years as one reporter had discovered? No one would ever reveal anything that heart wrenching to her—even if she begged.

But, wait. How had she discovered the truth about Deirdra's little secret? Hadn't she happened to overhear her making a fool out of herself in front of the aforementioned Hufflepuff? Well, 'happened to overhear' was a fairly loose way of putting that she had hid in a broom cupboard for two solid hours and listened in on her friend's twittering. Hmm… perhaps 'spying' would have been a better word?

Wait… Spying! That was it! The way Rita would obtain those scandal-creating secrets! But how? Surely someone would notice a blonde reporter hiding behind door frames everywhere her 'victim' would be? Unless she could disguise herself somehow. An Invisibility Cloak? No, she didn't have the money for that sort of thing. A Disillusionment Charm? No, Rita didn't trust her magical ability any more than she would trust a Death Eater locked in a room with a Muggle-born wizard. There was a _reason_ why she'd entered the field of journalism and hadn't opted for a job working for the Ministry. What else was there?

Rita groaned. She wouldn't have to do a whole lot of research on magical ways of eavesdropping, would she? She'd didn't have _time_! There had to be an easier way!

A humming in her ear made Rita lose her train of thought. She swatted at the fly, and it gave an indignant buzz and flew above her head, out of her reach. Much to Rita's annoyance, it continued to buzz, even louder this time, as if was determined to make her mess up this article and get fired.

You would think someone would have thought to cast some Insect Repelling Charm over the _Daily Prophet_ offices but no…. it was annoying insects for the people who brought the wizarding public their news! Honestly, half the time it just seemed like they hovered around waiting to annoy the first person they found with no time or patience to spare.

Rita fumbled in her robes for her wand; half thinking she could perform some form of _Impedimenta_ to stop the fly for a bit. How could something so small be so…. Her thought trailed off, and Rita stood motionless, her wand still pointed at the accursed fly.

A small smile slowly curled her lips. She had it. She actually had it! Why had it taken her so long to realize? An insect: small, insignificant, and able to get just about anywhere without being regarded as more than a mere pest!

And, fortunately, that was one bit of magic that Rita actually was able to do.

With a slight wince, she recalled running across the spells to become an Animagus as a seventh-year at Hogwarts. Rita had always been a bit disinterested and indifferent to the magic she'd learned over her seven years at school (one reason she wasn't so talented at magic today), but the idea of being able to transform herself into an animal had both interested and thrilled Rita. Imagine her disappointment when she'd discovered her true Animagus form: a beetle with markings quite similar to her trademark glasses. She'd always assumed she'd register herself with the Ministry someday, but the embarrassment had always stopped her from going through with it. How could a beetle compare with everyone else's forms: eagles and wildcats and such? But now being an Unregistered Animagus would come in handy because Rita wasn't sure the Ministry of Magic would approve of an Animagus using their ability to spy on their fellow wizards.

With a secretive smile she slid out from behind her desk and hurried to the loo. Once she safely locked herself in a stall, Rita hastily recalled the beetle form she'd only taken a few times because frankly she hadn't really seen the point.

After a moment, she opened her eyes and found herself barely an inch from the bathroom tile. Antennae? Six legs? Check, check. Everything seemed in order, so she scuttled out under the door and made her way out to the hallway, being careful to avoid the feet of the few people on their way to lunch.

Whom to spy on first? She buzzed gleefully and opted for the obvious: her Editor-in-Chief and the one keeping her job intact—Charles Harding.

* * *

Heh heh. That should be interesting, right? **E.D.J.**  



End file.
